


What We're Here For

by 7r33h0u53r3fu633



Category: markiplier - Fandom
Genre: Kissing, Masturbation, Multi, gender neutral reader
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-12
Updated: 2019-07-12
Packaged: 2020-06-26 22:56:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,980
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19778173
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/7r33h0u53r3fu633/pseuds/7r33h0u53r3fu633
Summary: You've had a bad week. Mark and Tyler are happy to help you unwind.





	What We're Here For

**Author's Note:**

  * For [NBmess](https://archiveofourown.org/users/NBmess/gifts).



You felt like a zombie, as you made your way towards your house. It was weird - it wasn't as if you'd had a particularly _trying_ day. It was tiring, sure, but living under the grind of capitalism was always tiring. You weren't sure why you felt like such a zombie in this case. Your day had been pretty reasonable all things considered. No major emergencies at work, nothing too egregiously panic inducing went on. So why were you in such a fog?

Maybe because the rest of the week had been so crazy. Sure, you'd done a lot today, but things hadn't been (metaphorically) on fire. They'd been on fire for a chunk of the rest of the week, though. So maybe that was it. You yawned, rubbing your eyes and trying to get your brain back into something that resembled thought. Maybe someday you'd win the lotto, stop having to subject yourself to all the embarrassing rigors that came with your godawful job, or whatever godawful job you'd end up with if you quit this one. And in this economy, there wasn't much that you could complain about, was there?

You realized, with some surprise, that you'd been standing in front of your front door, holding your keys in your hand and staring at the doorknob. Right. You needed to open the door. That would be a good first step. It was Friday night. You could come home, kick your shoes off, and flop onto your couch. Maybe you'd be self indulgent, order a pizza. Mark and Tyler were due... at some point, right? Unless they'd already come home, and were waiting for you.

You hoped they hadn't been waiting too long. They'd been busy filming who even knew what all week as well, and they were coming home sweaty, sometimes heading straight to the shower because they were covered in you didn't even want to know. At least they weren't working with the Team Edge guys anymore - there had been some _messes_ in those days, even though the three of you hadn't been a Thing at that point.

You unlocked your door, and you rubbed your eyes, adjusting to your hall light. You kicked your shoes off, dropped your bag, and you yawned, cavernous, your ears popping. "I'm home," you called.

"We're in the living room," they called back.

You made your way towards their voices, padding by on your bare feet. You wanted to change out of your work clothes, first things first - come home, take a shower, dress down. You couldn't even complain about your work clothes too much - you've definitely had worse. They were reasonably comfortable, they were just... you wanted there to be a clearly demarcated point between Work and Not Work. 

The two guys were on the couch, a pizza box open on the table. There were a few slices left over for you, and you were swamped with gratitude, like a boat at sea. You wouldn't have to worry about getting your own dinner, thank fuck. You didn't want to think about dinner. 

"How was work?" Tyler and Mark scooted apart - they'd been cuddling, although they both would have denied it if you'd asked. Chica was on the floor by Mark's foot, and she looked up at you, her eyes wide and sweet. 

"It sure was work," you said, and you leaned down to kiss Mark, then Tyler. 

"Ah, capitalism," Mark said, his tone faintly teasing.

"Yep," you said, and you flopped down between them. You probably should have taken your work clothes off, maybe made your way towards the bathroom to get a shower. Although it felt a bit ridiculous to have a shower, _then_ eat all that greasy pizza. And you needed to do the laundry anyway, so getting a little bit of pizza grease on your shirt wouldn't be a problem, would it? You tried to tell yourself that, as your reached out for the pizza. 

"Capitalism brought you that pizza," Tyler reminded you.

You made a dismissive hand gesture, and you yawned again, wide enough that your jaw popped. 

"We could have a spirited debate," Mark put in. "We could even film it. I'm sure we'd be able to amuse a bunch of people doing that!"

"Make a whole video decrying capitalism, so that we can then make money?" Tyler's hand was on the back of your neck, squeezing right where the knots were tightest. You melted up against him, your eyes sliding shut, your whole body going limp and relaxed. 

"That's nice," you mumbled. "That's... really nice." 

"Mmm," said Tyler. "You need to stop hunching over so much."

"I do my best," you mumbled. "Maybe if they designed any of my work stuff for people my height, instead of whatever theoretical ubermensch they're made for -"

"Yeah, yeah," Mark said, not unkindly, his hand on top of your head. "You're in a mood."

"Nah, I _was_ in a mood," you said. "I'm just tired."

"How was work? Other than being work, I mean," asked Tyler. His big, blunt fingers were still rubbing.

"It was... well, I did stuff," you said. "I was productive."

"Productive is good," said Mark.

“I think that I put out more fires than I started, altogether,” you said. “Which is generally a good way to go about things.”

“Right,” said Tyler. 

You took a bite of your pizza, letting the stringy, salty goodness of it sink down into your tastebuds. You sighed, your eyes sliding shut, focusing listlessly on the television in front of you. “So what are we watching?”

“Weird movie I found on Netflix,” said Mark. “A War of the Worlds type thing. Animated by the same folks who did the original X Men cartoon.”

“... No kidding,” you said, as a person was hit with some kind of ray gun. They melted, from their skin to their muscles to their bones. It was singularly unpleasant, and you wrinkled your nose. “Well.”

“We can watch something else,” Mark said quickly.

You took another bite of your pizza, chewing it. “I don’t care,” you told him. “Honestly, all I want to do is not think for a little bit.”

“That can certainly be arranged,” said Tyler. 

You glanced at him sidelong, one eyebrow up. "Was that a double entendre?" 

Tyler put a hand on his chest, wearing an expression of mock insult. "Me? Make a double entendre? Perish the thought!"

Mark snorted. "You are so full of shit," he told Tyler.

"Well," said Tyler, "at least it keeps me interesting."

"You're plenty interesting," you told him, your eyes roaming across the broadness of his shoulders, the elegant swoop of his profile. 

"Oh, you're just saying that," Tyler said, making a dismissive hand gesture. "You just keep me around for my pretty face."

"You're not just a pretty face," you said earnestly, but you were grinning.

"If I were the type, I'd write sonatas about your ass," Mark added.

"Sonatas specifically?" You leaned into Mark, your head resting on his chest. His heart was thumping away under your ear. "Why not sestinas?" 

"Those are two different things," said Mark. 

"Well, yes, that's why they're called two different things," said Tyler. 

"No, no, I mean one of them is a musical thing, and one of them is a poetry thing," said Mark.

"Aren't you a worldly one," said Tyler.

"I can't be cultured?"

"You scream on camera about video games all day, how am I supposed to think of you as cultured?"

"You _work_ for me, and I scream about video games on camera all day, so what does that make me?"

Your head was moving back and forth, tennis matching between the two of them. Mark's hand was stroking along your side, not particularly sexually, just comfortably. There was something comforting about the two of them bantering like this, something that just left you lazy and warm. You just wanted to sleep, and maybe keep sleeping until you weren't tired anymore.

You didn't remember not being tired at this point. Exhaustion tended to yank at the edges of your consciousness many a time, thanks to the rigors of modern capitalism. 

"You okay in there?" Mark's voice rumbled through your head, and it almost buzzed across your skin, itchy but comforting at the same time.

"I'm okay," you mumbled. "Just tired."

"You work too hard," Mark told you.

"You work harder," you countered, sitting up with some effort and yawning, rubbing your eyes. 

"Yeah, but I can work without my pants on," he volleyed back.

Now Tyler was tennis matching between the two of you.

"You live in the gig economy," you told him. "You're never "off", except when you have to be explicitly off."

"I set my own schedule."

"And your own schedule is "all the time" judging by some of the all nighters that you pull."

Mark snorted. "You're not fighting fair," he told you, and he prodded you in the side. 

"How am I not fighting fair?" You yawned, stretching, your back arching and your toes curling. 

"Because," he said, "you look so cute like this. I can probably formulate a proper argument if I really think of one, but I don't want to try to think of one, I just want to cuddle you."

"I feel like I've won and I've also lost at the same time," you said. "This feels like an unfair win."

Tyler snorted. "You both are so weird," he said, but he didn't seem bothered by it.

"Well, you're weirder for keeping us around," you countered.

He shrugged, clearly unperturbed. That was the problem with poking Tyler - the guy was unflappable. He was as unflappable as a sheet made of concrete hanging on a clothesline. Although now you had that mental image, and that... sure was something. You giggled, and Tyler and Mark both shot you worried looks. 

"Are you alright?" Tyler put a hand on the back of your neck and squeezed. You sighed, leaning into it. 

"I had a long day," you said quietly, and you yawned. "I'm sorry."

"Don't be sorry for having a long day," Tyler told you. "It's not like you did it at us. Or even on purpose."

"Right," you mumbled, and you yawned, so wide your jaw cracked. You were beginning to come down from whatever fumes you'd been running on, and it was becoming difficult to do much of anything except sit there, as your thoughts chased each other in sluggish circles.

"You must be tired," said Tyler. "You should shower."

"Are you saying I smell bad?" You stood up, slowly, rubbing your eyes. 

"No, no," said Tyler, "but you always get really cranky on the days when you don't shower before you go to bed. You say it makes you feel gross."

You couldn't really argue with that. "Fine, fine," you told him. "Just give me a minute."

"It's the weekend," said Mark. "You don't need to do anything."

"It's still Friday evening," you countered. "That's not the evening yet."

"It might as well be," said Tyler.

"You guys work weekends," you pointed out. "There's a difference."

"I'm barely working this weekend," said Mark. "Trying to hold off the whole nervous breakdown thing, remember?"

"Yeah, yeah," you said. "Those aren't very conductive in regards to productivity, are they?" 

Tyler snorted. "You two are the worst," he told the both of you, although he was smiling as he said it. 

"The actual worst?" You began to make your way towards the stairs and your big bedroom.

"The actual worst," he said. "Go shower!"

"That's what I'm doing," you called back at him. 

You could hear the two of them talking quietly as you made your way up the stairs, trying not to trip. You were so tired already, and now you needed to shower. You could do it. Showering was easy. You did it every day. You just... needed to keep your eyes open. You could shower, then go to sleep between the two of them. It would be fucking perfect. 

* * * 

You stood under the hot water, letting it drum down on the top of your head, and you let the tension drain out of your shoulders, tilting your head back to let the water wash over you. You were already starting to relax, thank fuck. 

When you got back to your bedroom, you found Tyler and Mark on the bed. Mark was clearly doing his best to look alluring, while Tyler had simply settled on being... well, himself. As handsome as the guy was, he didn't have to to do make you want to jump on him. And yet, all you could think about was just _how_ good your bed looked, with its crisp sheets and plumped pillows.

"I love you both," you told them, and you only blushed a little bit dropping the big "l" bomb, "but I need to sleep so badly."

"You do look wrecked," Tyler agreed, in that diplomatic way of his. "Are you gonna be okay?"

"I'm gonna be okay once I've sleeped," you said, then paused. "Slept?"

"Slept," Mark agreed.

"That is a sign of exhaustion," Tyler agreed. "Forgetting basic grammar."

"I don't know if that counts as grammar," said Mark. "More of a word choice thing, maybe."

"You both are being pedantic," you told them, and you yawned, toweling your hair off, then dropping the towel on the floor. You could practically _feel_ Tyler rolling his eyes all the way from the bed, but you didn't care. You crawled into bed, then flopped forward, your face in the pillow.

"You comfy?" There was a hand on your shoulder, another on your lower back. You were still faintly damp from your shower, and whoever's hand it was skated along your back, to rest on the curve of your ass. Under other circumstances, you might have wriggled your ass, been a tease. Might have invited both of them into some kind of hedonistic escapades that would leave all parties sweaty and worn out.

But you'd just showered, and were already worn out, so why add to that? You yawned widely, and you rolled onto your back, staring up at the ceiling through your eyelashes. You couldn't seem to keep your eyes open. 

One big hand was resting on your belly now, and it gave you a squeeze. "Sleep," said Mark. "You clearly need it."

"You can't tell me what to do," you mumbled, more to be contrary than anything else. You were already starting to drift off, and their chuckling followed its way into your dreams.

* * *

You woke up to the sun dappling across your face, peeking its way through the blinds. Tyler was flat on his back and snoring quietly, his whole face still. Mark was curled up against you, the curve of his spine pressed against your side. You could have drawn a topographical map of him, from the dip of his bony hip up to the curve of his shoulder. With all the working out that he'd been doing, you could clearly trace out the marks of his muscles.

Tyler, in turn, was just stretched, his chest rising and falling. You probably could have lain on top of him and he wouldn't have noticed much, with all the muscle he'd been building up. 

God, how had you ended up with two utterly _gorgeous_ men? 

You stirred, and you stretched luxuriously. You were rested - the kind of rested that you didn't normally get from just sleeping in on a weekend. You weren't sure how you managed to feel this _relaxed_ without any kind of narcotic involved, or maybe some really good sex. Did you have really good sex last night? As far as you remembered, all you'd really done the night before was eat pizza, have a shower, then fall asleep. 

Maybe it was sleeping between the two of them. You were still getting used to that - they liked it best when you were in the middle, but you couldn't do it every night. The two big bodies on either side of yours generated heat like sleeping between a stove and a kiln, and you ended up sweaty most mornings. Idly, your gaze passed down Tyler's form, to the bulge of his morning wood under the sheets. There were other ways to get sweaty, though. Much more enjoyable ways. 

You were horny. You weren't even sure _why_ you were so horny, since it wasn't as if you were having any particularly intense or sexy dreams. You didn't remember any dreams, truth be told. You'd just slept like the dead, barely moving. You were practically in the position that you fell asleep in, and your limbs were full of that mix of twitchy energy and languid heat. You were horny, alright, but you weren't sure what you wanted to do with it. You glanced down at Tyler's morning wood again, and you grinned. Well. There were certainly things to do...

You pushed the blankets down, until they were around Tyler's knees, and you reached down between his legs. His cock was still hard, making a sizable bulge in his pajama pants, and he sighed in his sleep when you squeezed it, squirming just a bit. His skin was hot, even through the fabric, and you could see the muscles of his stomach flex. He wasn't wearing a shirt, and you traced your other hand along his abdomen, to watch his skin twitch. 

"Mmm," Tyler murmured, and then he was blinking awake, those gorgeous eyes of his settling on you. "Look at you, being all... up and ready first thing in the morning."

"You're more up and ready than I am," you countered, and you gave his cock another squeeze.

He shuddered, his hips rolling forward. "I'm pretty up and ready," he agreed, and he brought his hand to your stomach, then lower. Your arousal was already pretty obvious - if not from your dark eyes and your heaving chest, then from the wet spot that you'd left on the sheets. It wasn't entirely your fault, at least - you'd always gotten pretty... damp, whenever you were excited. At least it didn't result in wet spots in your clothing.

Much.

"What's gotten you so worked up? Did you have good dreams?" His fingers were right where you wanted them, and you moaned, grinding your hips forward just a bit, your mouth falling open. You hissed, and you squeezed him a little harder. 

"I can't be into the fact that I've woken up between two beautiful men?" You gave him an awkward stroke, your hand clumsy at the slightly awkward angle. You were grinding into his hand, and you let your eyes slide shut again, the pleasure sinking into you.

"Mark isn't exactly pretty when he's sleeping," said Tyler, and he did something clever with his hand. 

You sighed, and you hissed between your teeth. His big hands were _so_ good at finding exactly the right spot, and giving it all of his attention. You tried not to wriggle too much, as he rubbed and twitched his fingers, although it was already dragging you towards the metaphorical finish line. 

"I am the prettiest ever, thank you very much," said a sleepy voice next to you, and you glanced over your shoulder. Mark rolled over, so that he was practically _molded_ against you, and his morning wood was pressing into you as well. He began to kiss along your neck, and you sighed, your whole body going limp. There was something all encompassing about the two of them, and the way that they surrounded you. 

"You sure are," you mumbled, and you rolled onto your back, so that both of them had more access to you. Tyler's hand flexed against you, then began to move a little faster. Mark's hand slid along your chest, finding a nipple and tweaking it. You moaned, your back beginning to arch, your heels digging into the bed, and you spread your knees a little wider. You knew that logically, you should have been reciprocating a bit more - you had two hands, after all. You should have been jerking Mark off as well, or maybe kissing him. But there was something so indulgent about just lying here, letting the two of them do all the work. Letting them kiss you and love on you. It was harder to stroke Tyler off from this angle, but he didn't seem to mind when you stopped - he just moved closer, his knees pressing into your leg as he rolled onto his side. 

"So you're saying _I'm_ not pretty?" Tyler was putting on a pout - you didn't have to look at his face to see it. 

You snorted, and you brought a hand up to his face. 

Mark was the one who leaned down and kissed you, his lips soft against yours. They were both squinting at you without their glasses, and their hair was mussed. You ran your fingers through Mark's as he kissed you, his hands switching nipples to twist and tug on the other one, and your sex pulsed against Tyler's hand. 

It was Tyler's turn to kiss along your neck, and his face was just as scruffy, leaving your toes curling. You shuddered, and you were beginning to shake, just this side of overstimulated. Some anxious part of your brain was telling you that the two of them were obviously going to start get jealous of each other, or maybe get annoyed at you for just lying there like a lump. But Mark was grinding into your hip, and Tyler's fingers were just as sturdy and patient as ever.

Mark's tongue was in your mouth, and his breath wasn't the greatest, but his hand was gentle on your face, and his jaw was working gently as he explored your mouth. He could be so gentle when he wanted to be, and that was a shock. It was a shock with the both of them - they were both so big, so strong, but they treated you so delicately. It made your toes curl and your whole body _melt_ , to be treated so delicately. Mark's kisses always had a desperate feel to them, as if he was half afraid you'd be pulled away from him. You'd have to ask him about that some day, when he wasn't sucking on your tongue and moaning into your mouth. 

Mark let go of your mouth, and then you were turning your head, so that you were nose to nose with Tyler. He kissed you as well, and his kisses were deeper, more languid, lacking some of the frenetic energy that Mark's had. Tyler always seemed to be taking things a bit slower, and you couldn't complain too hard about that either. It was nice to feel savored. God, between the two of them, it was just the gamut of emotions, wasn't it?

Or maybe you were just drowning in all the feelings, and still kind of tired from the day before. You were breathing heavily, shaking, your hips rolling as your neck was kissed, your shoulders, as all of your delicate places were stroked and rubbed and pinched. Your thighs were starting to go tense already, and the heat in your belly was starting to get stronger, tighter. You sobbed into Tyler's mouth, and were mildly surprised that there was wetness on your face. Were you sweating, were you crying? How would you be able to tell, anyway, when it was all happening at once?

You gasped as you came, your hips jerking forward, and the both of them sighed as you went rigid, then completely limp. The pleasure broke over you, and you gasped and groaned your way through your orgasm. The sweetness of it seemed to be almost like drowning, and you let it overtake you. You sighed as you came down, gradually becoming more aware of your surroundings. 

“Wow,” said Tyler, and he sounded faintly impressed. 

"Why are _you_ saying wow?" Mark didn't even try to hide how smug he was looking. "You weren't the one who had the orgasm."

"I can't be impressed?" Tyler waggled his eyebrows, then glanced over at you. "Are you up for more?" 

You paused, doing a self assessment. "I'm... not sure," you told them, because really, you weren't entirely sure what you wanted at this point. You were still shaking, just a bit, you whole body relaxed and sweaty. You were probably going to need to take a shower of some kind, in the near future. Although you were also so _relaxed_ that the idea of getting up to do so was off putting. 

"What do you need from us, babe?" Mark sat up, and he stretched. You let your eyes roam across the broad expanse of his chest, the muscles bulging. You wanted to reach out and touch him, but again... comfy. 

"I think I just wanna stay here for a while," you said. "Do you guys wanna... you know..." You made a vague hand gesture in the direction of their crotches. Both of them were visibly hard.

"If you're not up for it," Tyler said, "they can wait. Or we can take care of it, if that's alright with you." 

"It's you guyses bodies," you said, and then you frowned, because that didn't feel like the proper grammar. "Your bodies?"

"That sounds about right, yeah," said Mark. 

"What, that it's our bodies?" Tyler frowned, confused. It made a line form between his eyebrows, and you wanted to dig your finger into it. 

"Oh, no," said Mark. "Just what was said. It is our bodies." 

"They are our bodies?" Tyler was still frowning.

"I cannot _believe_ that you two are quibbling over grammar at this time of day," you groused.

"Listen," said Mark, "would either of us be ourselves if we weren't quibbling over grammar?"

You yawned, wide enough that your jaw cracked, and more tiredness passed over you. Okay. You wanted to sleep more. But you also needed to pee. Dilemmas, dilemmas. 

"I'm going to go to the bathroom," you told them. "I'm okay with, y'know, you guys doing whatever." You cleared your throat, suddenly bashful. "Not that you, y'know, need my permission, I know that you're both independent -"

"Don't worry about it," said Mark, and he leaned down to kiss you. "We'll go indulge in some private debauchery and leave you to your snoozing." 

You yawned again, and gave a thumbs up. Maybe you _would_ just stay in bed...

"Hey," Tyler nudged you in the side. "Get up and pee."

"What, you're worried about me wetting the bed or something?" You stretched luxuriously, but you sat up, rubbing your eyes. 

"I know if you get up and really need to pee you're going to run like a mad thing to the bathroom and possibly trip and fall, injuring yourself," said Mark. 

"Yeesh," you grumbled, swinging your legs over the edge of the bed. "You fuck up like that four times and you never live it down."

"I'm just the worst like that," Mark agreed. "Go pee."

"Yeah, yeah," you said, but you sat up, making your way towards the bathroom. "Are you sure you don't want any..." 

"We'll save you some boner," Tyler said, and his tone was so earnest that you cackled, then made your way towards the bathroom.

* * *

You heard the two of them making their way through the house - quiet conversation, the occasional laugh or something else. The bedroom was empty when you got back, and you tried to ignore the slight pang you saw at the big expanse of the bed. You knew, in your heart of hearts, that getting more sleep was one of the best things you could do right now. But still... 

With a sigh, you flopped onto the bed, and then you spread out like a starfish, luxuriating in all of the glorious, wonderful space you were free to take up. That was pretty nice, you had to admit. You rolled onto your stomach, burying your face in your pillow, and you let yourself relax into the warm bed. It even smelled like them, still. 

* * *

You woke up to the smell of breakfast cooking. It was late enough that the shadows were getting long in the bedroom, the light golden. You hoped you hadn't slept _too_ long - you wouldn't want to spend your whole weekend in bed.

... Well, no, that's a flagrant lie, a big part of you finds the idea immensely appealing, but still. You'd be awfully guilty if that happened. You were, in theory, going to do a whole bunch of things. Although maybe being able to just _relax_ for a bit is exactly what you needed to do. If that could count as something productive? 

You pulled on a robe, and you made your way downstairs, to the scent of cooking breakfast. You found the two of them in the kitchen, arguing about who even knew what. They both looked up when you walked in, and they smiled, the kind of smiles that lit up their whole faces. And something in your stomach clenched, your heart in your throat.

How had you ever gotten so _lucky_? 

“Hey, babe,” said Mark, and he slid a plate towards you. “I had a feeling that you were going to be up soon.”

“Thanks,” you said, and you looked down at the plate, piled high with food. “How’d you know I’d be coming down?”

“Oh, y’know,” said Tyler. “You usually come down around now on weekends.” 

You glanced over to him, impressed in spite of yourself. “And you just… remembered that?”

“Yep,” he said. “Why. Should I not have?” He looked faintly worried now.

“No, no,” you said quickly. “I appreciate it! Just…”

“Just?” Mark raised an eyebrow.

“You both spoil me,” you told them.

They grinned together, then said, in tandem, “that’s what we’re here for!” 

You would have been creeped out, if it wasn’t so damn cute.


End file.
